“I’m not sure this is such a good idea Sarge. Pemaquid used to be about 45 minutes away, by highway. Without being able to take the highways, and who knows how many bridges out it could take months to get there and back.” I tried to sooth myself by rubbing Annie’s back. It sounded like a horrible idea. A really, really horrible idea.
“Damnitall girl, if that Dr Tom Whateverhisnamewas was right, we do this and it could all be over.” Sarge’s rough voice was low and urgent. He didn’t sound worried. He sounded sure and confident, but the pen he held in a white-knuckle death grip tapped the map on his desk in a quick, agitated frenzy.
“I can’t go Sarge. I just can’t.” I lowered my eyes; I didn’t want to see the shame in his eyes at my cowardice. I started rocking back and forth a little and the old chair under me began to squeak in time to my movements. I refused to look up at him.
I fidgeted with Annie’s blanket and ran my eyes over Sarge’s office. He’d been here less than a week and he’d already turned what had once been a charming, private little bungalow into an almost efficient-looking office. Maps covered the floral wallpaper, boards covered the cute little windows, and the large armoire had been chopped up and turned into a desk.
He’d moved the huge king size bed out, and replaced it with a twin that was covered with olive drab wool Army blankets. He’d also added hooks and things to the fireplace so that food could be cooked in it. Mismatched, purloined file cabinets and bookshelves took up an entire wall. I liked it. The romantic honeymoon retreat had been transformed into the best office that the post-apocalyptic world we existed in could offer. I was so absorbed in my perusal of his little corner of the world that his voice startled me.
“Elizabeth.” The old man’s voice was soft, gentle and held a world of compassion. That was my undoing. I started sobbing and shaking my head. I was afraid, afraid of the truth. If that doctor had been right about ‘patient zero’ we were all screwed. Like, royally screwed. More screwed than the dead rising to eat the living screwed. And I had really thought that that was the pinnacle of how screwed we could be. Looks like I was wrong. Again.
I hid the trembling in my hands by patting Annie’s back, trying to get her to burp. She dutifully expelled a loud belch that any grown man could have been proud of and snuggled into my neck.
“Liz, I want you to stay here. I’m going. I’m going to fix this I promise.” His voice was quiet, soft. I swallowed and nodded. Numbly grateful that he hadn’t called me a damn coward and demanded I go and be a hero. I didn’t want to be a hero. I just wanted to live.
“Ok.” I nodded and looked down. Part of me wanted to tell him ‘No, don’t it. Let someone else handle it.’ But there wasn’t anyone else and we both knew it.
“Liz, I’m an old man. But I can handle this. I spent almost half a century in the military. This is what I’M good at. You stay here and herd the cats.” He chuckled roughly, and I couldn’t help but grin a little. He wasn’t good at dealing with the day to day minor conflicts. I wasn’t much better at it, but I was learning quickly.
I swallowed hard and nodded. I was scared. Really scared, and deep down I knew that I would never see the old man alive again.
“Who…” My voice cracked so I tried again. “Do you know who you’re bringing with you? You can’t do this alone.”
Sarge shrugged and grunted. I took that to mean he hadn’t decided yet. I nodded maybe a bit too fast and a bit too…repeatedly before standing up to leave. Odd how impending grief felt like acid reflux.
I got out of that office as fast as I could, my heart was breaking. I had never really even thought about being separated from Sarge for any length of time. I loved the old man; he had saved my life that first day. I had depended on him for nearly everything since the shit hit the fan. Those first few weeks when I was nearly catatonic, he had gotten me through my shock and grief.
When the other survivors we collected started dying like flies he had quietly taken care of their bodies, he’d gotten us fresh running water, power, and even showers (sort of). Sarge was my rock. He was the one of the only constants in my life.
And now he was going die on some stupid mission to find the first person that had risen from the dead. He was putting all his faith in a bunch of stupid blood spattered paper. My eyes were burning with the need to cry and my throat was raw.
I knew, deep down in my bones knew he wasn’t coming back. And it was killing me.
Sarge, nooooooo!
mwaahaahaaa
Sarge is sooooo dead.